


Comin' Home

by fightthegiants



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, Kissing, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Teasing, Waking Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightthegiants/pseuds/fightthegiants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'd rather wake up beside you and breathe that old familiar smell."</p><p>John & Sherlock waking up fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comin' Home

**Author's Note:**

> This (as well all my other Sherlock fics) were written just after Season 2 aired here in the UK. They were all over on fanfic.net but since I now use this as the platform for my writing, they're getting moved. Seems only right now that we're back on hiatus!
> 
> As ever, I don't own Sherlock Holmes & John Watson (they're Arthur's), I don't own this representation of them (they're Mark & Steven's) and I don't own Benedict & Martin (they're each others). I don't profit and all the other standard disclaimers.

John Watson slowly became aware of his own existence behind his closed eyelids. He was in that beautiful few seconds just after one wakes when you’re still unaware of the time, the day, the weather, things you have to do in the day and are just content with being warm and fresh from sleep. John finally prized his eyes open and blinked rapidly a few times before letting out a disgruntled yawn as the blissful phase gave way to the fact that another day at the surgery beckoned.

  
As he rubbed his eyes, the bundle of sheets beside him began to stir. John looked to his side and smiled at the sight that greeted him. The pristine white sheets were interrupted by an eruption of dark chocolate curls before the white cotton of the pillowcases took over. The curls grunted and proceeded to turn over. Sherlock had one squinted eye open as he looked at John, who was lying on his side, head propped on hand and smiling lazily.

  
“Hello.” John croaked in his morning voice. Sherlock looked around the room, still through one eye, like a bewildered animal that was just reviving itself from hibernation.

  
“What time is it?” He finally replied. His voice was deep and growly from sleep but the sound sent a shot of sensation straight down John’s spine.

  
“Early.” John said woefully before leaning down and burying his face in the crook of Sherlock’s neck and flinging an arm over his waist. Sherlock uttered a low chuckle from deep in the chasm of his chest and the downright erotic tone rumbled through John’s ribcage. Sherlock brought his own arm around John and pulled him in closer, breathing in the bed-mussed scent of him.

  
“Surgery today?” Sherlock uttered with his lips still pressed against John’s skin.

  
“Mmmmm.” John answered.

  
“What time?”

  
John  laughed, he’d been doing one shift at the surgery at the same time every week for as long as he could remember now and still Sherlock had more important things to occupy his mind than the details of said shift.

  
“Sherlock, what time am I usually gone from and until every Thursday?”

  
Sherlock pulled back from John and frowned. The look on his face said _‘You leave the flat on Thursdays?’_ John flipped over onto his back and erupted into waves of uncontrollable laughter. Still after all this time, the man could surprise him. Sherlock stared at John in complete confusion. John was beginning to control his giggles and finally spoke.

  
“You honestly didn’t know where I disappear to every Thursday?” smiled John, raking the curls out of Sherlock’s eyes.

  
“John, you know me. I have…“ but before Sherlock could finish John had placed a finger over his lips and edged closer.

  
“I know, you have other things you need to store in that crazy bonce of yours. I guess I should be offended but when you look this good when you’ve just woken up, how could I be?” Sherlock watched as John’s eyes devoured him. John planted a firm but short kiss on Sherlock’s warm lips over the top of his own finger then rolled away and sighed.

  
“You have to go soon?” Sherlock asked, moving to wrap a long, pale arm and leg around John.

  
“Afraid so.” It was John’s turn to take Sherlock into the crook of his neck.

  
Sherlock buried his nose as deep into John’s skin as he could. He drank John in, committing the smell to memory as he had done every day since they had begun to share a bed. He ran his long, thin fingers over John’s chest and abdomen, feeling the ghosts of abdominal muscles from John’s years in the army. His fingertips danced over John’s hip, the angle now slightly sharper after the weight he’d lost from their hectic lifestyle. Sherlock breathed. Breathed in the unique scent of the man he had come to care for so deeply. Had he really had feelings before John? He couldn’t recall a time when he’d cared for anything, let alone another human being. There had always been something more pressing to focus on. Yet, more recently he could focus on nothing but John. Only John.

  
“Stop it.” John’s voice pierced through Sherlock’s riot of thoughts. He was about to protest when John rolled over in the sheets to face him.

  
“Stop thinking and kiss me before the alarm goes off and I have to get out of our bed and do real-life things.”

  
Their lips met gently. After a few small pecks, Sherlock wriggled even closer, wrapping his arms around John’s back and entwining their legs together. He just needed John close. Suddenly the thought of John’s warmth leaving the bed was upsetting and Sherlock knew he had to send John off to the surgery with something to get him through the day. Sherlock tentatively opened his mouth and let his tongue slide cautiously forward, teasing John’s lower lip. John sighed into the kiss and opened his mouth to allow Sherlock’s tongue the access it was so eagerly awaiting. John held Sherlock’s face in both hands as he devoured his mouth like his life depended upon it. John felt a slender hand grab onto his hip before pelvic bones begin to grind against his own. Sherlock prized himself from John’s mouth and lowered his lips to the warm neck before him. He kissed and nibbled and left a long, lingering breath over John’s ear as he moved his hips slowly against John, affording them both some excruciating friction. John’s words ghosted over Sherlock’s ear, breathy and beautifully turned on.

  
“We have to stop… Ugh, Oh Sherlock. There’s no time…”

  
Sherlock smiled against John’s neck as his hand reached for John’s behind. As he cupped the cheek of John’s bottom and drove his hips as hard into John’s as he could, he bit down on John’s shoulder. John let out a strangled moan as Sherlock held him in his grasp like a predator before releasing him and rolling onto his back.

  
John fell onto his back, panting and trying to discreetly rearrange his boxer shorts beneath the sheets. Sherlock chuckled in that deep, rich baritone he had a way of using when he was feeling particularly amorous. He stroked lazy circles on the milky skin of his exposed stomach where the sheets had worked their way off him as the two had writhed together. John cast a cautious glance to his right and wished he hadn’t. His tall, impossibly thin boyfriend was spread out on his own side of the bed, pure white sheets bunched around his waist. His naked torso had a thin sheet of sweat across it, making him appear ethereal and dewy. His handsome, angular face was pointing towards the ceiling, his eyes closed and his mess of curls splayed out across the pillow. An artist could not have painted him better.

  
“I really have to get up.” John panted, unable to force his eyes away from the hand that was dancing on Sherlock’s lower stomach.

  
“You really do if you want to be on time.” Sherlock replied without even opening his eyes.

  
“This isn’t over, Holmes.” John smiled as he threw back the sheets and walked, a little awkwardly, towards the bathroom.

  
“I look forward to Round Two, Watson!” came the reply from down the corridor.


End file.
